The Pen and the Sword

As words take flight from inner being,
writing thoughts as yet unseen.
Light that reaches deep within,
penetrates places it hasn't been.
~
Through coloured windows long since covered,
new worlds have yet to be discovered.
The light breaks in through dusty air,
that dances with each motion there.
~
Through cobwebs thick, it writes its way,
clawing through each and every day.
Time since buried in inner places,
it writes through long ago distant spaces,
~
Through sombre rooms all wrapped in white,
with unstirred air, and kept from sight.
It glides through outer gates that creak,
and untamed gardens blown dry and bleak.
~
A sword stood guard for countless ages,
to keep this pen from writing pages.
It fought the world, kept all in doubt,
and would not let true feeling out.
~
This mighty sword, both sharp and strong,
placed quill in darkness it didn't belong.
Said, "None will reach this castle deep,
and into inner sanctum creep."
~
In silence the quill sat still and meek.
Its depth and strength, it did not seek.
pale and hidden away unknown,
as life passed by the inner home.
~
But magic yet will weave its way,
Past sword, and rust and dust, will pray,
for clarity and healthy spirit;
sing joyfully the world to hear it.
~
Open wide the rusty gates,
the boarded windows, the soul elates.
Cough and blink, as life seeps in.
The sword laid down by mighty pen.